WWBHMMD?

Everytime I get climb onto the elliptical (which is becoming more and more frequent as I have grown bored of the treadmill) I hit a wall at some point. A moment when I just want to give up. A moment when I start to barter with myself, telling myself if I can make to a certain time or the end of the current song, then I'll quit. Usually by the time I reach that goal, I keep pushing on to a new goal. Its all about baby steps.

But then there are the walls that seem bigger, thicker and far more difficult to climb up. And that is when WWBHMMD goes through my head. What would Bob Harper (from the Biggest Loser) make me do? What would he say at my pathetic time, speed, lack of flexibility?

I am notorious for being one of those people who always is eating while watching TBL. Why? Why do we all sit and eat while we watch people achieving their weightloss goals on tv? I can't say, but I know I am not alone. I just take comfort in the fact that the worst thing I ate tonight was hummus.

I have decided my goal is to reach my personal ideal body size, weight, shape and toning by my 30th birthday. April 24, 2011, I will be exactly what I want to look like. I plan on a Dirty Thirty trip to Vegas or somewhere equally as sinful and delicious and I will look smoking hot while there.

Its a long road, but I have allotted myself enough time to achieve it in a reasonable amount of time.

The little things

   Things are pretty rough and bumpy right now in my world, so any little laugh is definitely appreciated. This morning before my first client arrived at the salon, I was going to get a seldom enjoyed caramel macchiato at the Starbucks inside the Fred Meyer's. On my way, I passed a boy about seven or eight years old, walking in front of an elderly woman. He caught my eye specifically because he was barefoot. 

   Just as I was passing them, I heard him say to her "Grandma, who do you think would win in a fight? My dad or a coyote?"

  "What?" She didn't even catch my eye when we passed, but I had to laugh. The best laugh I've had all day. 

Typical conversations in our house

"Do you love me?"

Mike eyes my chest. "Parts of you, yes."

Ahhh . . . . true love.

Making this home

In some ways, this house already feels like home. Because when I picture going home at night, it's here that I picture. And when I feel tired in the mornings and wish that I could crawl back into bed, its our ridiculously huge bedroom that I long for. Slowly, subtly I am making the place ours. I have color swatches tacted to the walls as I attempt to determine which red, green, taupe I like where. I've purchased little bins and trays in an attempt to make myself be more organized ala Dooce. I keep a running list in my head of the rooms, drawers, and shelves that I should be organizing instead of watching tv or playing Bejeweled Blitz on Facebook.

But I am not going to lie. I kind of keep waiting for the bottom to fall out. A similar (but definitely not at all similar) situation about six years ago turned my world on it's ear and it all started/ended with moving into a new house. While the only familiar player in this sequel is me, I cannot help but notice the occasional ringing in my left ear of déjà vu. Yet Mike is not him and I am not who I was six years ago and this marriage is nothing like that relationship was.

Our second anniversary is quickly approaching and I can look back and say that year two was far more difficult than year one. Year one was a breeze in comparison. While we look around us and see numerous friends' marriages falling apart, we hold each other a little tighter, try to listen a little bit better and speak a little more clearly. I don't want to be a statistic. Or maybe I do; just one of the ones who made it through successfully.

I know without a doubt that this man loves me more than anyone else ever has, aside from my family. I can feel it in every touch and taste it in each kiss. I know that as long as I am willing to keep on keeping on, so will he. He has watched both of his parents marry, divorce, remarry and divorce again. He knew he didn't want that. I see my parents, with their 30th wedding anniversary a week away and know that they are something to aspire to.

Marriages like that are more than just a contract on paper.

Marriages like that are a foundation and walls and fabrics and pictures and everything that makes a house a home. No amount of planting or painting or organizing is going to make this home, because it already is.

What a difference five years makes

May 2004



June 2009



One of my oldest friends, Aja and I, showing that even we women get better with age. I was going through a phase back in the photo from 2004 where I didn't smile with my mouth open because I thought it made my face look fatter. Haha. . . I should have just realized it was my fat making me look fatter.

Inevitable

The packing/moving is pretty damn stagnant as we wait on all that paperwork and three day waiting period "required by law". We have a majority of our household in boxes, scattered (or rather, tightly packed into corners) as we attempt to survive in these albeit even smaller quarters now. I don't even want to mention the newest day that we are "supposed" to have the keys, because any time I say it out loud, its as if I jinx the damn thing and it gets bumped back. Again.

All I know is that we have to be out of our apartment on June 30th. It has to be spick and span clean when we leave. And I just completed day 1 of an eight day work stretch. I am already exhausted. My only saving grace is the fact that I by sheer, dumb luck have next weekend off. The salon is closed for the 4th of July and I have the 5th off anyway. 

In all truth, the entire house has come together in the finding, bidding and purchasing in a relatively short period of time. Its been less than a month since it even came into the picture, so while I bitch about how long this is taking and how slow things are moving, I know that I am fortunate. It is looking like we will not have to move into my parent's garage for even one night.

(knock on wood)

Death, divorce and moving house are said to be the three most stressful situations in life. I don't know how much more my fingernails can take!

Where to even begin

  The upcoming weekend is a big one because not only is it Father's day, but also, it is my mother's birthday. And while last year, my dad and I successfully pulled off a wonderful surprise party for my mother (complete with out of town guests), this year feels like it should be even bigger for us. Because this house we're moving into - my parents are buying for us. 

    It was kindly brought to my attention that I may be making it seem like Mike and I are purchasing the house ourselves and God, I wish we were in the financial situation where we could be buying a house right now. But the economy is shit (didn't know you???) and we are no closer to buying a house than I was ten years ago. Haha. Sad but true. However, my parents are the kind of people who have the foresight to see what kind of an investment another rental house would be for them (they own several all ready) and having their daughter  living there will increase the value in the long run too. Because I am itching for a house of my own and by the time we leave,  it will be even in better condition than when we move in. Light fixture improvements, color . . . etc. 

    So I have no idea what to do for either of them on their respective holidays, but I do (finally) have a couple of days coming up beforehand and will find something then (hopefully).

    Mom and I have been looking for some great upholstery fabric to recover the dining room table chairs with. The table is in great condition, as are the seats, but the current fabric has to go. It's pretty, but so not my style. This, however, is:

You're thoughts?

Also, been wondering what color to do my scrap/sew/write/knit/office room in. I want something inspiring . . . probably something purple. I cannot help but love things in purple.